


Divine Intervention

by eternalsession



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I don't really like this AU but I had a good idea so I ran with it, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:18:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsession/pseuds/eternalsession
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no possible way that the fucking number on his wrist was for until he met his soulmate. <br/>Or so he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Intervention

His name was Karkat Vantas, and he didn't believe in that soulmate bullshit. There was no one on this green fucking Earth who could convince him that the number counting down on his wrist was to meet his soulmate. It was literally burned into his wrist. He once tried to cut it away, but to no avail. He got a henna tattoo there once, and it didn’t work either. Even covering it up with tape and bandages did nothing for him, so he sighed and trudged through it. 

Sometimes he felt sorry for the person he was supposed soulmates with. He’d never wanted anything to do with any soulmate business, and he could only imagine this person waiting their whole life to meet a little shit like him. But, like always, he shrugged. 

On one particular morning, he saw the number on his wrist glow red.

 

It read: y: 00 m: 00 d: 00 h: 02 m: 00 s: 32

 

It was formatted in such a way that the year month and day were at the top of his wrist, and the hours minutes and seconds were on the inside. Once he met his soulmate the number burned on his wrist displayed the current time, so it wasn’t a useless number. Once again, he shrugged and went about his day. 

His parents smiled, having marked the calendar for this day, and made him a plate of pancakes (he ate about two before chowing down on other delicacies). He still wasn’t hopeful for meeting his actual “soulmate”, but it was like a second birthday. Sure, he didn’t get presents, he shouldn’t really get a present for meeting his soulmate, really. At least he could sulk in peace if he wanted to, or, at the very least, not be bothered by his parents.

So, whatever, he thinks, might as well go catch the bus. He makes his way out to the bus stop, because he has places to be and his parents regret not being able to take him there. He laughs and tells them it’s okay, because it really is, and because they’ll give him so much shit. It’ll be like that one time he brought a friend home and his mom asked if they were dating and his dad threatened to stab him. Having a stab-friendly dad isn’t the best thing in the world, he’s sure. He’s also sure that friend will never return to his abode.

The bus was running late, and he got tired of waiting after a measly 23 minutes, and pulled his headphones up from his neck over his ears, and started playing his favorite station on Pandora. He turned it up all the way, and smiled, something genuine, something he never does for real people, something he never did unless he was listening to music. He pulled up his scarf to cover his nose momentarily, but it fell back down as usual. He breathed in the cool, mint, winter air, and exhaled smoothly. 

He tucked his hands in his pockets and started humming along to the beat. He checked the timer on his wrist, to find that more than an hour remained. He popped his neck and walked along the trail to his destination, and after about an hour of slow walking to his destination he notices the seconds counting down on his wrist very quickly. It almost feels like a countdown until his death. Foreboding, maybe.

He still had about 17 minutes and 38 seconds, so he strode into the orchestra hall and took his seat. 113b. He looked around, and it appeared that no one was there yet, so he got off slick for now. 9 minutes until they arrive. He wouldn’t admit to believing in it, but he was secretly hoping for something to happen. The orchestra didn’t play for another hour, and he didn’t have anything of import on him, so he decided to take a little rest. The hall was dim and the seats were made of plush red material that he just melted into whenever he took his seat. He smiled and pulled his scarf up and slowly faded to sleep. He softly mumbled the lyrics to a song when a girl bumped into him. He doesn’t think to check his timer. He just knows, even through all the bullshit, he knows, the soulmate business isn’t fake. He looks up, eyes wide, still singing, unwittingly. 

“I’m just a kid, I’m not a hero,” 

“Just a boy, forced to sing this song,” she continues, meeting his eyes with the same expression. 

His eyes widen, and she smiles. It’s an instant, their eyes lock for only a moment, but in that moment, he swore he saw the world in her. She immediately extends his arm to shake his hand and he stares at it in awe. He looks down at his wrist, then to hers, and both timers read 00 across the board. He bites his lip.

“My name is Aradia Megido. A pleasure to meet you,” she says, identifying his mood.

“K-Karkat Vantas…” he says, inspecting her. 

The disparity in height between the two was something. Karkat was the taller one, by almost two inches. Standing at about 5’8, he wasn’t that tall, but still taller than her. Aradia stood at 5’7-ish and was a pale skinned asian with red hair that was dimmed out a bit. Brighter than rust and dimmer than scarlet. She was dressed in short shorts and thigh high socks with a kitten decal at the top of it. For a shirt, she wore a button up shirt with spikes on the shoulders and collar. A short, pretty asian woman, who was into all the same stuff he was. 

He, on the other hand, was a short white male, with bright blue eyes that spoke of naught but sadness. His hair, all of it, was whiter than snow, and his own skin the shade of a ghost. He wore a black hoodie, with a gray zodiac symbol on the back of it, and a thick black scarf. For pants, he wore torn skinny jeans, and toted a black bookbag. Usually he didn’t seem meek, far from it, truthfully,  but he was genuinely surprised.

“I can’t believe you actually showed up. Here I was thinking this was a bunch of bullshit.”

“Tell me about it. I’m surprised people even come to symphonies. You must be what they call a nerd.” She chided, then took out her earbuds and plopped down in the seat next to him. 

“Can it, fuck face. I appreciate good music.” He said, following suit. She giggled.

“Excuse me,  Mr.Vantas. I’ll be sure to be extra nice to you from now on.” 

“Fuck you, I don’t need special treatment.” He smiled; he made it a point to keep smiling so she’d catch on that most of the shit he said was sarcasm, and that he wouldn’t have to keep smiling. It was pretty out of character for him to smile that much.

“Also, for future reference, I don’t like to smile too much, so if I say something offensive and don’t smile, I probably don’t mean it,” he figured he’d hurry and get that out of the way.

“So you’re not a complete ass. I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She smiled gingerly, and leaned back in her chair. 

“The fuck type of person shows up to an orchestral performance listening to hard rock, anyway?” He said, knowing he did the same thing. She laughed and shrugged.

“Beats me. Probably someone who’s very dynamic and intricate. Only a boring person listens to just one type of music. Probably the Beatles or some shit.” 

“I listen to the fucking Beatles, watch it.” 

“Yeah? Name three of their songs.” 

“Blackbird,” he started, then stopped. She giggled. “Shut the fuck up, I know this one!” he said, but he really didn’t.

“That’s what I thought. It’s cool to like individual songs though. I like some dumb songs too.” 

“Like I said, can it, fuckface.” He turned, slightly flustered. She slid her hand underneath his and gave it a little squeeze. He let out an audible squeak. “Wh-what the fuck are you doing?” He barely managed to get out without stuttering.

“I’m not your enemy. You can trust me.” She smiled at him again and he melted. He couldn’t say anything else after that. 

Eventually, the orchestra showed up, and played the whole show. Karkat actually cried, and Aradia pulled him into a full hug, and always held her grip on his hand. At the end of the performance, she ended up giving him her number (she put a bunch of emojis next to her own name, which he was too enamored by her confidence that he just left it alone) and they each went their separate ways. He told her his address, so if she wanted to come by and save him from his hell anytime was a-ok. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi its me dmetrii aka... dmetrii   
> its convenient that my actual name was available  
> back to the present: i really love karadia, like otp for life, bnaskjdfhskal but there's no more on the web so someone's gotta write something  
> so heres to a happy today from me to me (and everyone else too)


End file.
